Chapter 5 - The Collapse of an Empire
By ten o'clock the following morning, the financial empire of Langley Holdings was crumbling into dust.
In the high-ceilinged corner office of Langley Tower on Park Avenue, sixty-year-old Richard Langley—Trevor’s father—was screaming into his phone so loudly his voice echoed down the executive hallway.
“What do you mean the banks froze our credit lines?!” Richard roared, slamming his fist onto his glass desk. “We have fifty million in liquid assets at Chase!”
“Chase pulled the lines twenty minutes ago, sir!” his Chief Financial Officer panicked over the speakerphone. “Every major lender on Wall Street has blacklisted us! Cross Global Financial just dumped three million shares of our stock! Our market valuation has dropped by sixty percent in two hours!”
The heavy mahogany doors of the executive suite were thrown open.
Trevor walked in, looking disheveled, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night of terror.
“Dad...” Trevor whimpered, his voice shaking. “Dad, we have a problem—”
Richard slowly hung up the phone. He stood up from his leather chair, his face flushed a deep, violent red. He didn't ask questions. He walked around the desk and struck Trevor across the face with a heavy, open palm!
The force of the blow knocked Trevor onto the plush carpet, clutching his bleeding lip.
“You idiot!” Richard screamed, his voice breaking with sheer rage. “You absolute, brainless fool! What did you do at the St. Regis last night?!”
Trevor wept on the floor, holding his cheek. “I... I just talked to Hannah! I didn't know she was married to Julian Cross!”
“You publicly humiliated the wife of the most dangerous man in the Eastern Hemisphere!” Richard roared, kicking a leather chair across the room. “Arthur Vance just canceled Chloe’s engagement to you! The Vance family pulled their pharmaceutical merger! We are bankrupt, Trevor! We are completely ruined!”
Before Trevor could answer, two men in identical charcoal suits stepped through the open office doorway.
It was Marcus, flanked by a broad-shouldered syndicate operative.
Richard froze, his rage instantly replaced by cold, suffocating dread.
Marcus walked calmly to the center of the office, pulling a black leather folder from beneath his arm.
“Richard Langley,” Marcus announced flatly. “Mr. Cross has signed the acquisition papers for Langley Tower. You have thirty minutes to vacate the premises. Your personal assets have been seized under federal asset forfeiture warrants.”
Richard sank into his chair, his eyes hollow, his breathing fast and shallow. “Please... tell Julian I will force my son to crawl on his knees to apologize to Mrs. Cross...”
May you like
Marcus looked down at Trevor, who was cowering on the carpet like a wounded dog.
“Mrs. Cross does not accept apologies from garbage,” Marcus said coldly. “Get your coat. You’re done.”
